


Devoted Shadow

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Dimensions, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF Harry Potter, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Harry gets sucked to another timeline, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Explicit, cuz i can't write explicit to save my life, cuz... reasons, eventual Harry/Bill, slow build romance, slow burn most likely, summoned/kidnapped Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-27 04:56:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6270427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Harry wanted to do was live in peace and teach his DADA class, in that order. He doesn’t want anything to do with politics or fighting. Unfortunately that decision is taken out of his hands when he is summoned to another universe and bound to help them defeat Voldemort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a story where a Harry Potter from a universe that closely matches canon (Except for the epilogue) is summoned to a universe that is very different from the one he left. Parts of this story are adapted from one of my old stories on Fanfiction.net titled Afraid to Live, largely it is a very different story but some parts in the beginning (Specifically the ritual summoning will be very similar). The original story never became more than a one-shot, so I don’t feel too bad about pulling out and adapting parts of the story.
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

All Harry could think, looking back, was that he never should have let her into his office.

The reasoning behind this thought would be readily obvious to anyone in the room.

Hermione Granger, infamous for her rants about social inequality, was once again camping out in his office.

She did this a couple times a year, in hopes that if she bothered him enough he’d agree to put his considerable political weight behind her most recent proposal.

He’d only agreed a couple times, in the beginning, before he realized nothing ever panned out the way she claimed it would.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose as she went into hour three of this particular visit.

“You and I both know that muggle-borns are just as powerful as pure bloods if not more so…” Harry heard as he briefly tuned back in.

Once he identified the topic he was more than happy to go back to ignoring her. She was once again championing the cause for equal employment rights.

Muggle-borns, and to some extent Half-bloods, had a much harder time than Pure-bloods finding jobs outside of Hogwarts. Particularly at the ministry.

Hermione was something of an exception, her status as a war hero and her marriage to Pure-blooded (albeit impoverished) Ron Weasley enabling her to get around this hurdle.

It wasn’t near that easy for others. Which is why Magical Britain lost most of its Half-bloods and practically all of its Muggle-born graduates to either the muggle world or wizarding communities abroad.

Harry agreed with Hermione that this was a problem, but it was a problem Hermione had been trying to fix with no progress since the end of the war 5 years ago.

“…and if anyone should care about this it should be you! You’re their Professor for Merlin’s sake!”

Hermione paused after this last exclamation, clearly expecting a response.

Harry sighed.

“I do care, Hermione. You know I do. And I do what I can to help them,” Harry explained for what felt like the hundredth time.

She promptly threw her hands up in the air, “Helping them get lucrative jobs in other countries is not helping!”

And here was where they always butted heads.

“It is helping,” Harry insisted, “I help the students get good jobs, make contacts, and move their families safely to a more welcoming society. I just don’t care about helping the ministry keep them here.”

Hermione glared. “If they all leave the pure-bloods win, and the ministry never has to make any changes.”

“That’s their own fault,” Harry asserted, more than done with the seemingly endless argument.

And it was because of this that when the room, and more specifically Harry himself, began to glow green some part of Harry welcomed the interruption.

At least until he felt a familiar tug at his navel.

He had just enough time to exchange a wide eyed look with Hermione before everything went black.

And still, when he looked back, he wished his last moments with one of his best friends had been less combative and more… peaceful.

 

* * *

 

“Good Evening Everyone,” Albus Dumbledore greeted as he stood up at the front of the room, effectively calling the meeting to order.

Everyone had already fallen silent as soon as he stood up, the years of doing so at Hogwarts making it automatic. It was an ingrained, instinctual response. Pavlovian even.

The Order of the Phoenix was currently a very small, very worried group. But they all regarded the grandfatherly figure that was Dumbledore with hope and reverence. He was their last beacon of light in the seemingly never-ending war.

It would have been very clear to an outsider that they all believed the headmaster could solve the problem causing their worry.

“I trust everyone arrived safely?” he asked, noting the nods and smiles he received in response.

He had found over the years that observing the small niceties and gestures would put them at ease.

“You all know why we are here.” He continued, “Voldemort has once again returned to Britain.”

He was not surprised to see that more than half those present flinched visibly at his use of ‘Voldemort’. Similarly to their conditioning to be silent when he was speaking, they were conditioned to fear the Dark Lord’s name.

However, some of the braver ones (or the more fool hardy), nodded with determined expressions.

Everyone had known when Voldemort had disappeared that he eventually would be back. People like him, people who hungered for power, never really went away.

There had been rumors of him in Europe, Asia and even in the Americas.

And, like they’d all known, he had come back. Six months ago, with an army at his back. An army that included more than just wizards, but dark creatures.

What only a select few knew was that he was already pulling strings behind the scenes at the Ministry and Dumbledore had no doubt he was close to making a public take over.

It was only a matter of time, and then Voldemort would undoubtedly turn his eyes to Hogwarts.

Hogwarts would always be a target, sooner or later.

A boy siting towards the front, Neville Longbottom, shook under the sudden attention of the room.

At the mention of Voldemort’s return no one had been able to resist turning expectant eyes on him, the last person he felt they should have.

Everyone expected him to stop Voldemort, to do something to keep him from taking over, to kill him.

Neville didn’t want to, was scared of even thinking about what that would take. Let alone the actual act of doing it. Being proclaimed the Savior of Prophesy was nothing in the face of his fear.

He was terrified of the upcoming war, of the expectations everyone had of him. Most especially he was terrified of the idea of him killing. He wasn’t a killer! His best friend, only friend really, Hermione Granger often told him he was the gentlest person she’d ever met.

And it was true, he couldn’t bear to even kill insects or trample plants. How could he take a life?

He couldn’t do it. He’d told Dumbledore as much, and the old man had smiled at him, his eyes twinkling, and assured him he’d take care of it. That, strangely, left Neville more unsettled than before.

“That is the purpose behind this meeting.” Dumbledore explained, “Through extensive research and time, I and some of my fellow professors,” He nodded towards Professors Snape and McGonagall, “have come up with a solution that will allow for minimum deaths.”

If anyone’s attention had been wandering before, that declaration swiftly grabbed it back and had them sitting up just a little straighter in anticipation.

“What is it?” a particularly bold, or foolish, person from the back called out. No one was the least bit surprised when Snape sneered at the Gryffindor response, even though there was no way he could possibly make out who had voiced the question.

On the opposite spectrum, Dumbledore smiled, “It’s a ritual to summon someone who has already defeated Voldemort from another, alternative, dimension.”

The room fell into an uneasy, stunned silence.

“Have you finally gone ‘round the bend?” A woman near the front called out, her hair flashing from bubble gum pink to white and back again.

The outcry set the whole group off, murmuring and whispering to each other, debating whether this was a legitimate plan or if the already eccentric Dumbledore really had gone mad.

The intimidating man sitting next to the aforementioned woman banged his staff up and down on the ground.

“Silence!” He shouted and then he nodded to Dumbledore when everyone immediately fell quiet.

Dumbledore nodded back gravely, “Thank you Alastor. And as for you Nymphadora,” He looked down at the woman, who preferred being called Tonks, with disappointment, “Let me assure you we have conducted lengthy research into this. It’s an old, forgotten ritual. But it will work.”

Everyone seemed to be appeased by this, trusting that if anyone knew about these kinds of old and powerful rituals it would be Albus Dumbledore.

Inordinately pleased with their response Dumbledore folded his hands in front of him, letting a rarely shown smirk grow on his face. Everything was going according to plan.

He personally thought this idea was rather ingenious, by calling someone who had been through this all before they could avoid unnecessary deaths and events. This someone would know what had gone wrong before and prevent it this time.

Not to mention that they were hopefully a better fighter than the Longbottom boy. He tried, but he really just didn’t cut it. He wasn’t a fighter, and no amount of training would change that

Dumbledore thought it was a pity, thanks to the boy’s grandmother he would have been a very malleable savior.

Deciding that he had left them to mull it over long enough Dumbledore waved his hand, catching everyone’s attention as the chairs (with people still sitting in them) levitated, startling their occupants, and moved to line up against the walls.

The reasoning behind this show of impressive magic soon became clear.

On the floor where the chairs had been resting previously was a rune circle. The people who put it together the quickest jumped to their feet, the oldest Weasley son being prominent among them.

Bill strode forward and knelt by the circle, catching the attention of everyone as he examined the runes. He was well known as a genius curse breaker and even the goblins grudgingly admitted that he was good.

Which from them was high praise indeed.

He looked up at Dumbledore who had moved to stand by the circle, “this is complex magic, and riddled with loop holes Dumbledore,” he reported, giving the headmaster none of the reverence his parents had raised him too.

Instead he stood up and met Dumbledore’s gaze evenly, “This is too general,” he continued, waving at the circle, “it will pull anyone who has managed to defeat Voldemort from their dimension. You don’t know what state they’ll be coming in. What if they’re old? Irreversibly injured?”

Dumbledore waved away his worries, “Trust me dear boy, none of that will happen.” The confident headmaster smiled at the young man, expecting him to back down. He had given his assurances after all.

But it seemed the night was to be full of surprises as it appeared William Weasley wasn’t even listening to him.

His attention was caught by a particular set of runes, “Is that a compulsion set?” Bill breathed, horrified, “That’s illegal!”

Dumbledore was momentarily thrown, he hadn’t expected anyone to notice that. “It’s mere insurance William, in case they’re… reluctant to help out” he explained.

Bill snorted, brushing his flaming hair out of his face, a finger momentarily catching on his fang earing. “So we’re not only kidnapping them, we’re also ransoming their magic to make sure they help?”

This too, Dumbledore waved aside. “Do not worry so much, anyone who has defeated Voldemort before and knows the horrors he can cause will be only too happy to do so again.”

Bill was incredulous at first, before quickly transitioning to furious. He had recently come back from Egypt and had, as such, spent years outside of Dumbledore’s direct influence. It was only now that he was back with an outsider’s perspective that he realized how much these people relied on the headmaster.

How blindly they trusted him. They were sheep, who listened to whatever he told them as if it was scripture.

It was horrifying to the young man, who valued his freedom and independence above all else.

“We’re supposed to be the good guys!” Bill protested, “How can you justify pulling him from his own world without so much as a ‘by your leave’? You’re giving him no choice!”

By now the entire group was shifting uneasily, enraptured by the argument.

But Bill wasn’t done yet, he stepped forward coming between Dumbledore and the circle as the man was forced to step back. “I won’t let you do this.”

Everything stopped, no one quite able to believe this was happening. Some even seemed to begin to doubt Dumbledore in the face of Bill’s impassioned opposition.

Dumbledore couldn’t let that continue. He searched out Arthur Weasley’s eyes and met them, “Restrain him, please. He means well but this must be done. For the greater good.”

The crowd erupted into speech and Tonks seemed ready to once again speak out when Arthur Weasley startled everyone by stepping forward with his wand drawn. His youngest son, Ron Weasley followed suit.

“It’s okay Bill,” he tried reasoning, “Trust me, as I trust Dumbledore.”

Bill hesitated, but ultimately shook his head, holding his position between Dumbledore and the rune circle.

Arthur seemed fatalistically resigned, ‘I’m sorry son,” he said, raising his wand as Ron stepped forward to restrain him.

“You…” Bill couldn’t take his eyes off his Father’s defensive posture, the way the man who raised him was watching him as if expecting Bill to attack him.

“I could never hurt you,” he said sadly as he let Ron disarm him and then drag him over to the side where Alastor Moody wasted no time restraining him with magical bonds.

Bill stared at the ground.

Their actions stunned the rest of the congregation into passiveness.

After all, if his own family was restraining him, what could they really do?

But as Dumbledore approached the circle again, clearly about to begin the ritual, Bill began to struggle. Family be damned, his moral code wouldn’t let this happen.

Moody growled, ‘Don’t make me stun you boy.”

Bill ceased his struggle, knowing he wasn’t getting out of these restraints. Not without his wand.

Neither his father nor his baby brother were able to meet his pleading eyes.

He slumped in defeat once Dumbledore began to chant.

From there Bill knew it was futile. The headmaster had already begun the ritual and to stop it now would be disastrous and have far reaching consequences.

The group of Order members, who had been silently watching the events unfolding, observed with bated breath as Dumbledore chanted in a tongue no one recognized.

It soon became clear something was happening when the runes forming the circle began to glow, first white then blue until finally emerald green was what remained. Next, some of the symbols began to move in the circle, shifting on the floor.

As everyone watched with growing awe, an impossible wind picked up, causing the runes to seemingly leave the floor to whirl around in a semblance of a tornado. To witches and wizards who were used to pointing wands and just having things happen, this show of ritual magic was amazing and awe-inspiring.

Finally the wind picked up to the point that with the runes moving with in it, no one could see through the resulting blur to the area that had once been the rune circle.

And then just as suddenly there was a loud bang and the wind was gone as if it was never there. The runes that everyone would swear had come to life and flown through the air were back on the floor. But something had changed in the otherwise identical room.

There was a figure now sprawled on the floor.

The room watched warily as the figure stirred, quieting the hushed conversation of speculation that had popped up.

The figure too, seemed on edge as they made their way to their feet. Their stance was relaxed but anyone who knew fighting could see the tenseness in their muscles and how their hands were twitching, presumably with the urge to pull a weapon.

In the next instant not only was a wand in one of his hands but the other held a wicked looking dagger. He flipped it in his grasp so that the blade was lined up with his forearm.

Dumbledore stepped up, undeterred by the fact he was armed. “There’s no reason for weapons, particularly since you can’t attack us anyways.”

The figure frowned at the confidence laced in the latter part of Dumbledore’s statement.

As if to test it he flicked his wand, sending a yellow spell hurtling towards Dumbledore. It made it within five feet of Dumbledore before dissipating. This was immediately followed by the figure dropping to his knees.

His sharp intake of breath was the only sign of his pain as he dropped his knife to grip his right firearm.

Roughly he pushed up his sleeve, staring at the burning red phoenix branded on his arm.

Off to the side Snape went very pale.

Dumbledore in contrast seemed rather pleased.

“You see my friend, we brought you here to complete a task. And until it is completed you will be unable to attack anyone who is currently in this room. And if you refuse to help, or deliberately work against us, you will lose your magic.”

The figure straightened and stood up again, his knife and wand disappearing back into his robes as if he’d never pulled them out.

He took a moment to straighten his robes, to take off his glasses and clean them, and even to retie his long black hair before looking up at Dumbledore.

His green eyes were piercing. “Based both on the mix of people here, some I know to be dead, some I know are alive, I must be in some form alternate universe or timeline. Am I close?”

Dumbledore folded his hands together, “Alternate dimension to be precise.”

The figure nodded, “And you want me to do what exactly? Wait, no don’t answer that, I think I know already. These things always lead back to one thing. Or person rather.”

Bill stirred from his defeated stupor to examine their prisoner.

For all that both his stance and tone were casual, his eyes were constantly on the move. Marking exits and threats. They did linger overlong on one group, the Potters. James Potter, Lily Potter and their teenage daughter Alice.

If Bill remembered right she was in the same year as Ginny.

But even then his gaze didn’t remain there, flitting over to Bill and meeting his gaze.

Suddenly, all Bill could think about was assuring this man that he’d been against this, that he’d tried to stop it.

Against all odds the man seemed to understand and even nodded in acknowledgment.

The figure turned back to Dumbledore who had been waiting patiently for his attention to return to him, “This is about Voldemort right? You want me to kill him again.”

Dumbledore beamed.

“Yes, exactly. We need you in the background, our Savior Neville will of course take the credit in the end but we require you for the actual deed.”

The figure didn’t seem fazed about this, “May I suggest we discuss specifics,” he glanced around the room, “In a more private setting?”

Dumbledore didn’t seem bothered by the man’s desire to get away from the group, “Certainly. Minerva, Severus, Join us in the library?”

Both professors nodded and began ushering the rest of the order off, telling them to return tomorrow for another meeting where they would be updated.

When the Weasleys were about to leave, Bill between Arthur and Ron, the man spoke up.

“Wait!” He called, “Leave the one with chains, if he’s amenable I would like him to sit on the talk as my advisor.”

Bill turned back, his eyes wide.

Dumbledore frowned, “Whatever for my boy?”

The figure snorted, “First, I’m not your anything. Second, clearly this reality is very different from my own,” His gaze flicked back to the Potters, “And I want someone in the meeting I trust to make sure I’m aware of all the differences.”

Minerva frowned, “You don’t trust us to tell you?” She demanded, seemingly upset that he was impugning her honor.

He snorted, “I don’t know you. But you agreed to this ritual and that’s enough reason for me to distrust you.” He jerked his head towards Bill, “He didn’t agree, so I trust him.”

With a sigh Dumbledore waved his hand, “Release him Alastor, as long as Bill agrees he can sit in on the meeting.”

Bill nodded vigorously, he’d been unable to stop the ritual but now he’d do all he could to help their kidnapped victim. “I’ll help.”

The man smiled, coming over to shake his hand once he was released, “Harry Potter,” He introduced, “Pleasure to meet you.”

Bill stared, “Bill Weasley,” he finally got out, somehow knowing Potter had already known his name.

“I had wondered at the resemblance,” Dumbledore commented, having heard Potter introduce himself.

Thankfully, the Potters had been among the first to leave the meeting.

“I take it your version of myself is dead?”

Minerva paled, looking away from the suddenly familiar man. “Yes,” she admitted sadly.

Potter closed his eyes briefly, “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

Everyone agreed.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love it? Hate it? Let me know :)
> 
> P.S. This is a WIP so don't expect too regular of updates but I am working on it. Classes are my priority but this will be the next one in my downtime.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the wait, but on the bright-side it's summer term for me and while I'm still taking classes my load is much lighter. I hope to update this more consistently from here on out. 
> 
> Enjoy :)

* * *

The ritual had seemed like such a good idea when Dumbledore had brought it up. But now that he was sitting across from the summoned 'hero' Severus Snape had his doubts.  
  
Judging by her pinched frown, Minerva agreed with him. It wasn't that they'd expected some version of Dumbledore. Or even someone who would jump at the idea of helping. But they also weren't expecting someone so straightforward in their reluctance to help.  
  
If it weren't for the compulsion runes... Snape had to wonder whether he'd be helping at all.  
  
Potter - because of course their 'savior' was a member of the Potter family - was as unconcerned and cocky as his father. He sprawled in his chair and watched them with a glint in his eye.  
  
It was a glint that Snape was loathe to identify. He had a feeling it would reveal that the figure was more than just a clone of James Potter. He preferred not to dispel that particular delusion just yet.  
  
After Potter's suggestion of privacy they had adjourned to the library to finish talking.  
  
Snape was oh so sure that William 'Bill' Weasley would have something of value to contribute. Not.  
  
At the head of the table Albus cleared his throat.  
  
"Shall we begin with the events of your war?" He said in a tone that suggested he was trying to be delicate. It was the one he often used on the Ministry when they came to Hogwarts in an attempt to interfere. An instance that happened less and less now that Voldemort had taken over behind the scenes.  
  
They all knew he was just biding his time, waiting until he was sure of his victory to act. With deliberation Snape turned his mind away from that train of thought.  
  
Potter glanced up at them through the dark fringe of his hair, his gaze considering.  
  
"I think not," he said, sitting up straighter in the chair. To Snape's eyes still just as damnably calm.  
  
Snape sneered as he replied, "And why not?"  
  
But the man didn't rise to his less than respectful tone. He didn't even glance away from Dumbledore. Snape shifted in his chair, crossing his arms.  
  
But Potter did answer.  
  
"The events of my world don't affect yours, but the differences between them affect me. And how I can best help you." Here his face shifted into something other than neutral. A scowl that twisted his face into something fearsome. For the first time since his arrival Snape believed this man had fought a war and defeated Voldemort. "After all, that is why you dragged me here."  
  
Dumbledore hummed under his breath, his own calm less shake-able. "How can we know the differences unless you tell us of your world?"  
  
Potter rolled his eyes. "I was a professor too Dumbledore. That kind of logic doesn't work on me," he said. He steepled his fingers together in a manner too reminiscent of the headmaster to be a coincidence. "How about I let you know if I notice a difference that seems important."  
  
It wasn't a question.  
  
Beside him Bill shifted, uneasy, revealing his confusion about his role in this. He had yet to say a word.  
  
Potter looked sideways at him, his lips quirking in a reassuring smile for a split second. It was about as comforting as an approaching lion.  
  
And yet, Weasley stilled and even relaxed a degree. He noted the interaction and stored it away in the back of his mind. Something to consider later.  
  
He didn't know how to turn off the part of his mind that did that. The part that logged away information that he could use later. Nor did he want to, it had saved his life more than once.  
  
Dumbledore sat back in his chair and peered over his glasses at the man they had summoned to do their dirty work.  
  
Potter smirked, broadcasting his contempt for them in a single expression. "Wishing you added more compulsion than simple loyalty and a 'do no harm' protection?"  
  
"You also have to complete the directive or lose your magic," Albus said. Despite himself Snape shifted his hand to grip his left forearm. He'd never thought to see the say where Dumbeldore branded someone. A practice he couldn't help but associate with the Dark Lord.

Yet again he turned his thoughts away.

Dumbledore smiled.  
  
Snape had a feeling Dumbledore was enjoying the verbal spar. Instead of reassuring him the revelation made him wary.  
  
Anyone Dumbledore could argue with, who could challenge him enough in the process to get him to enjoy it, was not someone to underestimate.  
  
Potter shrugged his shoulders, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the table. "I'm aware," he said, his spreading his hand out palm up. An entreaty. "Can we get started now?"  
  
Minerva surprised everyone by agreeing. "Just do as he asks Albus, classes start soon and we cannot afford to be here all night."  
  
At that Potter blinked, "Well, there's one difference already. What month is it here?"  
  
"August." Bill answered before any of the professor's could. "I take it it's a different month where you came from?"  
  
"November."

* * *

"What do you mean 'you lost him'?" 

Hermione threw her hands up in the air. "He just disappeared Ronald. One minute he was there, the next, 'Poof!' He was gone."  
  
Her husband of 3 years crossed his arms over his chest as he watched her pace around their kitchen. She turned on her heel in sharp circles, her movements jerky with irritation. "People don't just disappear Hermione. Especially from Hogwarts."  
  
She stopped in her tracks, throwing a glare over her shoulder. "I don't need you to tell me about how the wards work, Ronald."  
  
"My point stands," he said, holding his ground. Being married to Hermione and his time as an Auror had taught him the virtue of sticking to your guns.  
  
And when to pick his battles.  
  
So when Hermione stalked towards him and jabbed him in the chest, saying, "Can we focus on the problem? You know, that our best friend has disappeared without a trace?" He caved.  
  
He'd learned a lot since their school days when he'd have argued with her just for argument's sake. They'd have gone in circles, sometimes for days, until someone knocked them out of it. Usually Harry.  
  
"Okay, okay. Did you call the Aurors? Talk to McGonagall?"  
  
She rolled her eyes, "Of course I did. They couldn't find anything. The only thing they have to go on is my account, and even I'm not sure what I saw."  
  
Ron nodded, "Let's start there then. Harry has a pensieve, I'm sure given the circumstances he won't mind us borrowing it."  
  
She blinked up at him.  
  
He sighed, wrapping his arms around her waist, "Always the surprise." 

* * *

"So let me get this straight," Harry said, "Our worlds are relatively the same up until Halloween 1981. When baby me and Sirius died instead of James and Lily Potter."  
  
That had been quite the revelation for him. Whatever ritual his mother had performed in his world (and most likely this one?) must have only applied to her. Since Sirius had been the one to die for him, the protection hadn't formed. It was something to ask her about. Assuming he could bring himself to speak to the people who looked like his dead parents, but weren't.  
  
He forced himself to move his thoughts forward. This universes' version of him was dead. That would have changed this version of his parents into people who couldn't be similar to his own. The idea that his survival was due to more than just love was one he'd entertained before. He'd never quite bought into his Dumbledore's schtick about love being his secret power. The ritual applying only to his mom...  
  
It made a twisted kind of sense, his mother couldn't have been the only mother to die for her child.  
  
The fact that Sirius was dead in this universe as well was a blow. But it was one he could weather under the circumstances.  
  
"And then what, your Voldemort conveniently left for close to a decade?" That was the part he couldn't wrap his head around. In his universe the break between to two wars made sense. Voldemort had been temporarily defeated and incorporeal. For all intents and purposes he'd been dead for over 10 years.  
  
Why would he disappear here where he was by all accounts, winning?  
  
Dumbledore exchanged a look with the two professors who, just as in his world, were his most trusted lieutenants. His right and left hand, one in the shadows and one on full display.  
  
"No one knows." Bill volunteered, brushing his ponytail over his shoulder to rub the nape of his neck.  
  
Harry didn't believe that for a second.  
  
He leaned back, folding his hands behind his head to meet Dumbledore's too blue gaze. "Maybe most people don't know why, but you do."  
  
The headmaster stroked his beard, "I have my theories."  
  
"And...?"  
  
"I have none worth sharing at the moment."  
  
Harry wanted to beat his head against the table. It was an old oak table that had seen better days. It had, however, survived the disarray and damage the rest of Grimmauld place had fallen prey to. He could do a decent amount of damage if he wanted to.

And that was another question for later, if Sirius had died years ago, who had given them access to the manor?  
  
He refrained from giving himself a concussion, instead saying, "Tell me anyway."  
  
Dumbledore communicated his response eloquently, in that he didn't respond at all.  
  
They stared at each other, neither willing to break the stalemate on this matter. Harry had stared down his universe's Dumbledore, Voldemort and Snape. This was old hat. And since then? He'd wrangled teenagers, dealt with their parents, and won arguments with Hermione.  
  
He wouldn't crack first, he was nothing if not stubborn.  
  
McGonagall huffed. "Save me from self-important fools," she muttered under her breath. "We believe he left to seek out allies with more magical creatures."  
  
From the way Dumbledore turned to look at her Harry derived that he hadn't expected that.  
  
Snape continued where she left off. "When he returned there were not only werewolves at his behest, but vampires as well. And with them came others who were previously neutral."  
  
That... couldn't be good.  
  
In Harry's experience the vampire covens of his world thought themselves above both wizard and human wars. What could have convinced them intervening was in their best interest?  
  
To the others he hummed thoughtfully. "The Black library in my world had a lot to say about the vampire community. None of it suggested they'd get involved in our problems. For either side."  
  
Dumbledore gave up on the idea of keeping this from him in the face of his subordinates disobedience.

  
"We think that's why he was gone so long." He said, begrudging, "However he went about persuading them must have taken time."  
  
"Why haven't you mentioned this to the rest of the order?" Bill asked, bringing their attention onto himself.  
  
Harry looked on with interest as Dumbledore frowned at Bill.  
  
His respect for Bill rose a notch when the curse breaker didn't flinch.  
  
"It's merely a theory." Dumbledore said after a moment, "I have no way to prove it."  
  
They were getting nowhere with this line of questioning Harry decided.  
  
"What exactly do you expect me to do? Short of going out tomorrow and challenging Voldemort to a duel?"  
  
"As if you could win," Snape muttered under his breath.  
  
McGonagall looked down her nose at Snape, "Severus."  
  
He subsided with a mutinous glare that Harry would have found amusing in any other situation. It looked rather petulant on the professor's face.

"Do you have a suggestion?" True to form Dumbledore answered his question with a question.

Harry smiled, "Have you found a Defense professor yet?"

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought? :)
> 
> Also the exposition part of this chapter really fought me, I hope it doesn't come across as too awkward.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a few months since I updated, and I do sincerely apologize for that. I've got more WIPs going on that I'm used to and I'm sorry to say I have been dropping the ball on some of them. 
> 
> But I do want to assure you this will be finished, there just might be some gaps between updates. 
> 
> Please Enjoy!

* * *

 

The office was quiet and dimly lit. The only sound to be heard was the tenor of snoring.

Lining the walls were portraits, filled with past headmasters. Esteemed leaders of the oldest wizarding school in Europe, who were rather peeved to be rudely woken with a burst of flame.

They communicated their displeasure with a cacophony of snorts and grumbling, their ire centered on the group of figures now standing in the center of the office. 

Fawkes flew away, landing on his perch with a trill that smoothed over the portraits' ruffled feathers.

Potter moved to the outskirts of the room, his eyes scanning it. Cataloguing the differences from the room he remembered.

"Didn't trust me to apparate or floo to the correct place?" His rebuke was mild, his fingers dancing over the back of the chair by the fireplace.

The current headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, didn't answer the question, instead moving behind his desk.

"Naturally, you will be afforded quarters in the professor's wing of the castle," Albus explained as he rifled through his desk.

"It's in a separate wing from the defense classroom, but you'll have a door that connects to your office." He continued.

Potter turned from where he'd been offering his hand to Fawkes, the phoenix having nudged him once in greeting. He sent Albus an amused look. "I know. I was a professor in my world."

For a moment the twinkle in the headmasters eyes dimmed, perhaps at the reminder his summoned 'hero' had been snatched from a life. He hadn't just popped up from thin air, however it appeared at the time. He wasn't just taken from a life of mediocrity, one where he was just working a normal job. He was taken from his students, from people who depended on him.

It was a bit too close to Albus himself for him to be comfortable with it. But he was familiar with pushing aside guilt when it came to the greater good, and he employed that practice here.

To distract himself he picked up an ornate key, holding it up with a triumphant noise. "Ah, here we are."

Professors Snape and McGonagall exchanged a look while Bill looked confused.

This time, Albus wasn't surprised that Potter appeared to know exactly what the key was for.

"Minerva, my dear, would you kindly lead the way?"

She sniffed, but moved towards the door accordingly.

He waved Potter and Bill ahead of him, not commenting when Severus hung back to walk with him.

"I still do not approve of this," Severus said quietly.

Albus nodded his agreement, turning the key over in his hands. "Where better to put him than where we can watch over him?"

The potions master had no answer.

They continued their walk in silence with Minerva periodically glancing back at them. Albus knew she was out of sorts, having not expected their new charge to be joining the faculty. Understandably so.

Albus turned his attention to said charge, examining him from the relative safety of being behind him.

Potter was strolling down the corridors, his hands shoved in his pockets. The picture of bored nonchalance. For all that he was allowing Minerva to lead the way, it was more than apparent he didn't need her to.

He watched as the man tilted his head towards Bill, murmuring something to him that Albus couldn't hear.

He frowned. At this distance, that shouldn't be possible. The corridors carried noise well, echoing back to nearby professors. It was part natural, part enchantment.

Albus waggled his fingers discreetly at his side, a spell to listen in on their conversation. Once again he was thankful for his ability with wandless magic, it allowed all manner of discreet spells.

Instead of the words he was expecting, all he got back was a faint buzzing noise.

He shook his head to clear the irritating noise, cancelling the spell with another twist of his fingers.

"Headmaster?"

He glanced up to see they had arrived at the quarters traditionally set aside for the Defense professor.

"Ah yes, thank you Minerva." he moved to stand in front of the portrait.

Adorning the wall was a landscape of Hogwarts, he pulled out his wand and tapped the canvas.

A horse in the distance appeared, riding ever closer. As the figure drew up he increased in size until he was at the front of the portrait and of a size with them.

"Headmaster," the rider greeted, reaching down to pat his horse's neck. "Am I to have yet another occupant this year?"

Albus nodded, "Indeed, Leesil. I trust you'll keep an eye on him."

The man, known as Leesil of the Lake, straightened on his horse. "My good headmaster, I am shocked you would speak so boldly. In my father's day…"

His voice was the perfect study of surprised concern and affront. Off to the side Potter snorted.

Fighting back a sigh, this night slowly eating at his composure, Albus waved Potter forward.

"Am I safe in assuming you know how to set your password?" he inquired.

Potter moved forward, edging Albus away from the portrait.

The group watched in silence as the portrait and the man sized each other up.

"Leesil was it? It's nice to meet you."

Leesil leaned over his horse's neck, closer to Potter. He grinned, "You have founders' blood in you don't you?"

Minerva gasped, a hand rising to cover her mouth.

"I do, Gryffindor by bloodline."

Those standing there couldn't help but note that he'd only named one founder while Leesil had used the plural.

Albus frowned, unused to not knowing everything. Judging by Severus' irate sneer he was of a similar mind.

Leesil tilted his head but didn't call him on it, "Well then, Founders' heir, what is your choice of password?"

"How about 'arrogate'?"

 

* * *

 

Bill trailed at the back of the group as the portrait swung open and they filed in.

He took a moment to look around, they'd stepped into a sitting room reminiscent of the Gryffindor common room. Just on a smaller scaled and done in neutral colors rather than gold and scarlet.

There were even two desks by the window to the left, pushed together to leave room for the bookshelves behind them. On each side of the room were two staircases going up, and one between them going down.

Before he could investigate further, he was distracted by the sound of a horse neighing. Looking over he blinked, apparently Leesil had followed them into the room and was now residing in the portrait over the fireplace.

He offered Bill a jaunty wave when he noticed him looking, before turning the horse and galloping towards the Great Lake.

Bill stared after him as his figure got smaller in the distance, and what appeared to be the great squid waved a tentacle in greeting. But he was too stuck on Leesil's earlier words to take in much else.

'Founders' Heir'

Thanks to his association with the goblins he knew those words couldn't be spoken lightly, especially not here in Hogwarts where the castles magic would prevent unqualified use.

Raking his fingers through his hair, he pushed that to the side. Too much had happened this night, he couldn't process another revelation. Particularly one that would hold such weight if true.

"Mr. Weasley? I expect Mr. Potter is aware of this, but you might appreciate this."

His head jerked around to find Professor McGonagall offering him a small smile. And despite the mess the night had been he felt his lips twist up.

For all that he didn't understand how she could not only condone Dumbledore's action but support it, he still viewed her as a parental figure. Just short of his own parents.

And at least she hadn't restrained him and taken his wand.

She gestured for him to join Dumbledore and Harry who had ventured down the center staircase. He found them down a short hallway to a single wooden door.

The headmaster glanced back at him, a twinkle in his eye as he waved him forward. "I think you'll appreciate this William."

Ignoring the over familiar address, he moved closer to see that the headmaster was brandishing the ornate key from before.

Dumbledore turned and made a show of inserting the key, turning it halfway.

"Half a turn leads to your office," he demonstrated by swinging the door open to reveal the defense office. Bill gaped.

Before he could process what he'd seen, even he who had grown up in this world was amazed at this show of magic, Dumbledore swung the door closed again. He turned the key the rest of the way.

"And a full turn, for the teacher's lounge." he again, showed them by swinging open the door. 

Since he knew what to expect, this time Bill managed to keep his composure. Harry had never lost his to begin with.

From that he figured it was safe to assume this system had existed in his universe.

"Well that explains how Professors are never late to class," he said trying to break the tenseness still lingering between the other two.

"Indeed." The headmaster chuckled, hanging the key on the hook by the door.

Harry didn't say a word, though he did squeeze Bill's shoulder as he brushed by him on his way back up the stairs.

Being left alone with the headmaster, even for a moment, wasn't high on Bill's bucket list so he turned and followed.

Judging by the rustle of cloth behind him, the Headmaster followed them up.

Harry stepped to the side one he reached the landing, and Bill followed his example, flanking the staircase as Dumbledore came up.

The headmaster ignored the gesture, sweeping to the center of the common area. He folded his hands in front of him, and turned a smile in their direction.

Bill wasn't fooled by the grandfather persona, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Well, we shall leave you to get settled." He gestured for the other professors to preceded to the door.

He turned back at the last second, "as for you, William, up the staircase to the left are a set of rooms for you since you're here as Mr. Potter's assistant."

Bill blinked.

"Of course, you're also welcome to commute from the Burrow if you like."

Instinctively, Bill shook his head. The last thing he wanted to do right now was sleep under the same roof as his father and brother who had so quickly turned against him. At the words of the man in front of him, no less.

"Wait," this time it was Harry that spoke, "Is it safe for me to go by my name? Or should I use a fake one?"

That threw Bill for a second, he hadn't even considered that the name of 'Harry Potter' was still significant in some circles. Dumbledore on the other hand, didn't seem surprised.

"I had wondered," he said, "Do you have an alternate name in mind?"

"Evan Black," Harry replied without hesitation, "I can still go by Harry as my middle name. It's an alias I've used before," he explained at their confused looks.

Dumbledore tilted his head, "Very well then, Professor Black. What about the Potters?"

Harry's head jerked, "They especially can't know my real name."

His reply was vehement, and Bill couldn't help but frown along with the headmaster.

But Harry didn't let either of them argue as he stepped forward to usher the headmaster out, "It's been a long night, I think it's time you leave."

Bill watched, somewhat amazed, as Dumbledore did just that. A strategic retreat perhaps, Bill had no doubt the topic would be brought up again if Dumbledore had anything to do with it.

Once he was gone, Harry sagged against the wall with a long sigh.

Bill ventured close, "Alright mate?"

Exhausted eyes met his, and for a moment the man looked much older than his years. It passed quickly, too quickly to Bill to register, as he straightened back up and shook it off.

"Fine. Are you staying?"

He snorted, "Of course. Going home is not something I plan to do anytime soon."

Harry nodded, gifting him with a brief smile.

"I'll see you in the morning then, we have a lot of planning to do."

Bill watched as he departed, still not sure how he'd found himself in the confidence of a man from another universe. One who had been summoned to save them all.

Bed seemed like a good idea. Perhaps the world would make sense again in the morning.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought?
> 
> ** This chapter is shorter than I usually like to post, but I figured it was more important to get an update out. Hopefully I'll get the next part out soon. 
> 
> *** The key-door thing was inspired by Howl's Moving Castle, a fantastic movie I highly recommend. And the password 'arrogate' is a bit of a joke since the definition is = "take or claim (something) without justification."


End file.
